Star Wars: Bloodlines
by MissScorp
Summary: What does the galaxy's best bounty hunter do when he finds out that his own daughter has just hired him for a bounty?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing but my OC's and my general story concept and theme.

**A/N**: This story is another more or less AU take that builds upon the known idea of Fett having a wife and child by giving him another one. This is a sequel/companion story to my **Legacy** story...

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**Tatooine, 3.5 years B.B.Y.: Dune Sea.**

He was the best hunter in the business.

Most of the beings, sentient and human alike, that she stopped had warned her to say away from him. But Darsha Ra'Shai needed the best bounty hunter. She just had no other choice or options really. So here she was, hidden within a transport container filled with things she didn't want to think- much less _know_ about. She could hear the blood chilling screams and agonized moans of different beings that were being tortured in the various parts of the Palace. She tuned the sounds out, knew that they would drive her mad if she didn't. The stench of the Hutt carried through the heavy plastic of the storage container and almost made her retch. But she kept the nausea at bay, refusing to give away her hiding spot by spewing what little breakfast she'd consumed all over the place. The transport stopped and the whispered words of a species she didn't know told her it was time that she departed before she was discovered.

Shoving off the thick piece of dewback hide she'd used to conceal her presence within the container, Darsha slipped from her hiding place and headed down one of the many chasms that made up this den of inequity. She moved quickly, heading in the direction that she assumed was where the main room Jabba kept court in was located. She pulled her hood up in order to conceal her face as she passed a few slumbering Gamorrean. She prayed they took no notice of her. She had no desire to end up as Jabba's new plaything.

She stopped in an archway that opened into a well furnished chamber. A strangled sigh escaped her when she saw the room was filled, wall to stone wall with all of the dregs of the universe. Gamorreans, soul less humans, jawas, and other despicable sentinent beings reveled in the baser pleasures of life that the Hutt offered. She raised her head above the merriment and saw that there in the front of the room, reclining on a dais large enough to sit six full grown men and overlooking the debauchery the individuals in the room were causing was the grotesque and disgusting crimelord, Jabba the Hutt. A Twi'lek dancing girl in a gauzy green costume, her skin and lekku a powdery shade of blue, was chained to his side. The girl did not look happy and Darsha could well imagine why.

Darsha repressed a shudder of disgust and scanned the room, but didn't see any sign of the infamous man that she had come here to find. A moments hesitation filled her. But she again reminded herself that there was no other choice, that she had to hire the best hunter for this job. And the only way to be able to hire him was going to require a great sacrifice on her part, an extreme amount of patience and time she was not sure she possessed. She moved farther into the room, keeping her head low. She did not see Bib Fortuna, Jabba's majordomo, look up when she passed by his post near his master. He was intrigued by the petite figure, found himself wondering who she was, but did not bother to get up and approach her. Her simple brown cloak suggested to him that she was nothing but the daughter of some moisture farmer. All sorts of creations came to his masters palace, some looking for work, others looking to escape. This girl, he decided, hand stroking his lekku, was likely no exception. And would fall into his hands soon enough.

She moved into a corner where she could observe everything that went on with some modicum of privacy. A cold shiver snaked her frame as she watched a humanoid clad in a black spacesuit start an argument with a much larger Devorian male. She squeezed her eyes shut when the Devorian pulled a blaster rifle out and aimed it at the smaller male. Excited shouts and jabbered taunts filled the chamber, alerting the Hutt who watched the argument unfold with bulbous eyes shining with interest. What had she been thinking in coming here? she asked herself. Was hiring Boba Fett really worth _this_? She worried her bottom lip with her teeth and realized the answer was _yes. _

To pass the time as much as to find much needed balance and calm, she sought a meditative state. Through a series of conversations with her mother, Darsha had become only too aware of her Force sensitivity, of it's consequences and complications. It was an alien thing to her, this liquid energy that had been passed from her grandfather to her mother, to her. She experienced the Force as silvery threads, ribbons, tendrils of energy that twisted themselves into an ethereal fabric of power and meaning. She'd become familiar with how to detect a Force signature, learned how to cover her own by disguising it within the strong signature of another Force sensitive creation. The energy around her was strong; it boiled, surged, undulated in waves that coiled in her belly in tangled webs of light and dark. Her mother once told her that to understand another's sense of the Force was to understand how he or she chose to use that energy. She didn't need to follow the dark thread to know who it belonged to, she already knew to whom it belonged... and it was from _him_ that she needed to remain unnoticed.

She had closed her eyes and opened them now to look about the throne room. The room had emptied considerably in the short time she'd been meditating, some going below to seek a few hours respite from the stifling heat and stench while others went off to complete assignments and jobs to which they'd been assigned. The flash of something metallic caught her eye. Her heart began to pound when she saw the man standing in the dark archway across from her. Even concealed as he was by the small cove of shadows, she recognized the figure of Boba Fett.

His Mandalorian armor was renowned, striking fear and terror in the heart of any criminal so foolish as to find themselves in his crosshairs. There were burn marks in the orange shoulder pad on his left shoulder, across the front of his armored chest plate. Three braided Wookie scalps hung at his right shoulder, unnerving her. His helmet had scratches on both sides but the T-shaped visor that turned in her direction was absolutely unscathed. Fear as well as a bubble of excitement raced through her when she saw him. Fear for who Fett was and excitement because it signified her journey was nearly at an end. A glint of red caught her attention and she turned her head, taking notice for the first time of the humanoid female, a Cyllonian she believed the woman's species to be, that moved through the throng of sleeping scum to where Fett stood.

The Cyllonians long black hair was covered by a gauzy pink veil that concealed the lower part of her face from view. Small trinkets at her wrists and ankles jingled but did not awaken the Hutt asleep on his dais. Darsha knew naught of what was being said between the two. Not that she needed to hear to know what the conversation was about. The sultry look on the Cyllonians face as well as the suggestive sway of her hips was enough to tell her that this was a conversation of an embarrassed nature. Heat suffused her cheeks when the woman pressed her near naked body to Fett's. Decidedly uncomfortable, she glanced away.

"Come. Aleina will help the great bounty hunter to relax after such a…" the Cyllonian purred as she pressed her body more fully against Fett's. "_Hard_ bounty."

Boba Fett would have smirked if he was not deeply irritated with the Cyllonian. He was, by no means, celibate. He had been married once and engaged in several intimate partnerships through the years. But he approached relationships in much the same way that he approached his bounties: selecting to become involved with only those who met _his_ high standards. And the women who worked in Jabba's Palace, who Jabba took to his sleeping mats, did not meet those standards. A movement at the opposite end of the throne room caught his attention. He activated the heads-up display in his helmet with a few blinks of his eyes, and a close-up color holoimage of the cloaked figure gazing at him from a far corner of the room merged easily with his field of vision. A full-color holoimage would have been too distracting. There was a lot of detail that would have required his full attention, and-here was the really hard bit- it was hard to look at an image and keep it under scrutiny when his human brain was wired to concentrate on features. He wasn't hunting this figure and the features were unimportant. But he was curious to know who the figure was and why it was that they were staring at him.

Aleina was completely oblivious to what was going on, so engrossed in her attempted seduction that she didn't notice how Fett was no longer paying even scant attention to her. It was not that she wanted to sell her body to the most notorious bounty hunter in the galaxy-far from it in fact. It was just that he could offer her her freedom from this revolting palace and the equally repulsive Hutt that inhabited it. It was a game that Fett was well versed in playing. A game, he thought as he disentangled himself from the female wrapped around him like a vine, that he always won. Aleina let out a snarl but was wise enough to not give into the temptation to attack him. She knew that it would have been her death had she dared.

Darsha decided that now would be a good time for her to retreat to another part of the Palace to wait for a more appropriate time in which to approach the bounty hunter. Turning, she pulled the hood of her cloak lower and made her way towards the archway she had used to slip into the chamber. She had taken no more then a few steps into the corridor when she felt the press of something against her back. She stopped, feeling the blood drain from her face.

"Who are you and why are you in Jabba's Palace?"

Fett never needed to shout, never needed to speak above a whisper: he was always heard. Hearing that dark and metallic sounding voice sent chills up and down Darsha's spine. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. A hand encased in a mesh glove grabbed her, spun her around. Her hood was knocked askew in the scuffle and she lifted amber colored eyes to look at him. Fett was taken aback. He knew of only one other woman who had eyes that shade: _Kali_, who had died nearly sixteen years before.

"I will repeat my question just this one time," he said. "Who are you and why are you in Jabba's Palace?"

Darsha's heart pounded so hard that she feared it would explode from her chest. She had to take a moment to calm herself before she could speak. She breathed in slowly.

"I came to speak with you about acquiring your services..."

"And just what is it that you wish to acquire my services for?"

"There is a man that I wish brought to justice. A man," she added as she pulled the hood of her cloak back over her face. "Who is worth much to a bounty hunter like yourself."

Fett was intrigued despite himself. "Who is the bounty upon?"

"It's..." she glanced over her shoulder, saw that they were beginning to attract notice and realized the opportunity to hire him had been lost.

"No," she said. "It is not safe to discuss this here. We are being too closely watched." She stepped back into the shadows. "I apologize for wasting your time, Hunter Fett. It was not my intention, I assure you." She turned to leave but not before saying; "I bid you farewell."

He took hold of her arm in a firm grip. "You're coming with me."

He gave her no choice, merely led her down a dark hallway that was rank with a foul odor that seemed to permeate every room of the Palace. She commanded herself to not get sick, least of all in front of this man. It wasn't like she'd see an ounce of compassion from this man if she took sick. Fett stopped in front of a large door and motioned her inside. She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before stepping into the room's cool darkness. Light flooded the room the instant she stepped inside, briefly blinding her. Fett came in with her, close behind. He'd always be close behind her she realized.

Until he had learned why it was that she'd sought him out, he would remain one step behind her. His hand was there, lightly on the small of her back. She recognized it for what it was- a silent message warning her of the consequences of trying to run. Fett touched a button by the door and Darsha heard the _whoosh_ as the door shut, effectively locking her inside this tiny chamber with the most deadliest man she had ever found herself alone with. Fett moved across the room, taking off his jet pack before he sat in a chair next to a tiny wooden table. Besides the bed and a small chest of drawers, the table was the only other piece of furniture in the room. He motioned to the bed.

"Sit there if you will. Or not," he said. "It doesn't matter." He waited until she'd perched on the edge of the bed. "Now, you spoke of a bounty."

She nodded. "A very profitable bounty."

"What is the contract for?" He saw the nervous way that she rearranged the folds of her cloak. "You are safe with me," he said harshly. "But I suggest that you not test me nor waste my time any further. And answer my questions when I ask them."

"I understand," she said.

"Good. Now," Fett said as he leaned back in the chair. "What is the contract for?"

"The contract is a kill on sight with proof of death returned to me. The manner in which he winds up dead is yours to choose."

"What is the amount of the contract?"

"Fifty thousand creds up front and another two hundred thousand once you have completed the contract."

"The fee is high," Fett murmured thoughtfully. "And who is it that I am supposed to be hunting for a fee this high?"

"Javar D'Slank."

Fett's head snapped up. "Javar D'Slank?"

She was proving to be full of surprises. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Surprises normally irritated the hell out of him. Especially since in his line of work, surprises could lead to your death. But he was tempted, oh yes, he was definitely tempted. But it still seemed to good to be true. And in the bounty hunting business, what seems to be to good to be true usually was.

"You are talking about the Imperial Commander, Javar D'Slank, who became a spy for the crime lord Prince Xixor."

It was not a question but Darsha nodded anyway. She knew that she had him hooked but did not crow about it. That would be undignified and inappropriate.

"It seems bounty hunter," she said with rising confidence. "That not only am I willing to pay you two hundred and fifty thousand credits for D'Slank, but that Lord Vader will pay you two hundred and fifty thousand for him, as well."

Fett was not the kind of man who ever thought of himself as being in any one kind of mood, good or bad. But the possibility of collecting half a million credits put him as close to being in as good of a mood as he could ever recall being in. There was only one dark spot threatening to spoil his mood.

"Nobody knows where Javar D'Slank is," he pointed out. "When his betrayal became apparent, he disappeared."

"Then it is to your benefit that I am the one who wishes to hire you." He saw those lips curve into a smile that so resembled Kali's that he wondered if he was not mistaken about who her mother was. "Because not only do I know where D'Slank is," she said. "I can tell you where he is going to be."

"How do you know where D'Slank is?"

"Because," her voice hitched as memories she did not care to think upon at that moment rose up to torment her. "Up until a few days ago, I was one of D'Slank's slaves."

Her voice dropped below a whisper, the shame and embarrassment of admitting she was nothing but a slave difficult. If it were not for the extra audio devices in his helmet he would not have heard what she said. She managed to surprise him once again. It was one of the extremely rare times in which someone had managed to surprise Boba Fett without intending to use his surprise in order to trap and kill him. But her being a runaway slave did present him with a problem. Normally he was hired to bring runaway slaves back to their masters. But those masters normally offered him a lot less than what he would earn for bringing D'Slank to Vader.

"One hundred thousand up front, two hundred fifty thousand once I provide proof of death."

_He's testing me_, she thought in surprise. For a moment she was tempted to leave without finalizing the deal. One, she didn't have the hundred thousand up front and two, she wasn't positive that the jewel in her pocket would net her that much. _I have to find a way to hire this man, though, _she thought with rising desperation. _I can't free my mother without him_.

"Fifty thousand up front," she prayed that the dirconia jewel- one of the most rarest gems in all the galaxy-she had stolen off of D'Slank was really worth as much as he claimed. She was going to need every one of the credits that the jewel would bring in order to pay this man his fee. "And three hundred thousand upon confirmation of death."

"Deal," he said in such a foreboding tone that Darsha wondered if she had not made a fatal mistake. But she almost collapsed in relief when he accepted her counteroffer.

Reaching into her cloak, Darsha pulled out the pouch that contained the credit voucher for the initial fifty thousand credits that she'd promised him. "Fifty thousand credits," she said as she tossed the pouch to Fett. "As promised."

She then turned to make her exit.

"We are not done gentle lady."

"Not done?" She asked him in confusion. "But I have given you the fifty thousand credits we agreed upon. What more is there?"

Her naiveté amused him. He could almost appreciate her innocence. _Almost_. And he gave her credit for her courage. There were not many people who would have dared to have confronted him, much less to have confronted him here, in the Hutt's sanctuary.

"You need to tell me how to contact you once I have completed the contract."

He sensed her hesitation, tasted her fear. Fett knew that she didn't trust him. Not that he wanted-needed her to trust him really.

"There is a bar on Nar Shaddaa," she said. "_The Blue Light_. Tell the barkeep there that Darsha sent you. He will tell you how to find me."

Fett digested the information slowly, uploaded it into his helmet's short-term memory to add it to _Slave 1's _database later. The name of the bar triggered a memory in Fett's mind. He knew one Corellian that frequented that bar whenever he was on Nar Shaddaa. One Corellian who had managed to avoid him more than any other bounty ever had.

"Where is D'Slank right now?"

He saw her lips curve again. "On Nar Shaddaa."

He started. D'Slank on Nar Shaddaa? Fett found that to be absolutely impossible to believe.

"You are sure that he is on Nar Shaddaa?

"Who do you think the owner of _The Blue Light _is, Hunter Fett?" She asked as she made her way to the door. "D'Slank had his face surgically altered after his betrayal became known and assumed the name of Darjak Slada in order to avoid the Empire's detection." She looked back at him from over one shoulder, orange yellow eyes glowing within the dark depths of her hood. "I want him dead, bounty hunter," she said in a cold, hard voice.

"As you wish," he rasped.

She inclined her head before turning to exit the room. He let her go.


	2. Chapter 1a

**Disclaimer: **Still own nothing but my concept and my OC's...

**A/N:** I essentially wrote Bib Fortuna's Ryl-Twi'lek speech from snippets I could put together so if I am mistaken (I know some people are even more geeky than me!) please feel free to tell me!

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Fett began preparing to leave for Nar Shaddaa before the door had even finished closing behind her. He would collect the bounty on D'Slank as soon as possible. There was never a question about whether or not he would be successful in fulfilling this contract. Boba almost always wound up getting what he was after. Any unlucky soul who happened to be caught in the crossfire was lucky if they were still alive once the dust settled. And D'Slank was what he considered to be a priority bounty. The credits would go towards making some long overdue repairs and upgrades to _Slave I. _He collected his jet pack from where he'd set it earlier and exited the room.

He strode down the dark corridor, passing one of Jabba's guards on patrol and had the satisfaction of seeing the Gamorrean scramble to get out of his way. It wasn't until he passed a corridor that led to Jabba's throne room that Fett heard the shouts and excited titters. He closed his eyes, listened for a moment, and swore he heard a familiar female voice begging to be released. He strode down the corridor, concerned for no reason other than if the girl became enslaved to Jabba that he would not receive his remaining fee. He stopped short when he saw Bib Fortuna; Jabba's majordomo dragging the girl towards Jabba's dais.

"Let me go!" She hissed at the majordomo. But Fortuna merely dragged her forward.

Jabba awoke amidst the chaos and confusion. "What goes on here?" The Hutt bellowed in Huttese. "Who dares disturb my rest?"

He eyed the cutthroats and degenerate scum in his employment before fixing the focus of his glare upon his majordomo, who bowed his head respectfully and finally upon the wriggling figure that Fortuna held in front of him.

"Me wanna no badda su Jabba," Fortuna said apologetically to the annoyed crime lord. The fat appendage that was curled around his shoulders rippled, his only display of physical unease. But he kept a tight hold on the girl, knew that once he presented this _gift _to Jabba that all would be forgiven. "Me hadde su ash eti. Me wanna gidda su nima."

"You have a female here that you wish to give me as a gift?" The Hutt asked, studying the cloaked figure again with newfound interest.

Fortuna nodded. "Ka," he replied simply.

"Remove her hood so that I may see whether or not my... _gift _is worth your disrupting my rest."

Darsha was desperate. She raised her head above the merriment, looking for Fett, praying for him to appear and get her out of her present predicament. Especially before the Hutt decided to turn her into his new plaything. But of the Mandalorian there was no sign. Not that she wasn't without plenty of other would-be helpers she saw with a feeling of dread curling in the pit of her stomach. Many of the individuals-humans as well as other sentinent beings-who were in the room were staring at her with great interest, almost as if she was an exotic morsel that they wanted to taste, consume, savor. Many of them would offer their help, she knew, but only in return of favors that Darsha intended to give no man. It looked like it was up to her to get herself out of her present predicament.

She again tried to yank herself free of the Twi'lek that held her. But Bib Fortuna was proving to be far stronger than she'd anticipated him being. He reached up and yanked her hood away before shoving her towards the dais and his disgusting employer. Darsha tumbled forward with a gasp, tripping on the hem of her cloak and going down on her hands and knees in front of the dais upon which the Hutt lay. Salacious Crumb, an ugly small reptile-like creature that was sitting near Jabba's belly cackled in a high pitched mimic of the disgusting Hutt's laugh. Darsha gave it a menacing look, briefly debated sending the thing flying across the throne room. But a display of her Force abilities-while soothing and entertaining-would do nothing but ensure Jabba would keep her as his pet.

That sizzle of temper broke through her fear, snapped her back to who she was. She was Darsha Ra'Shai, daughter of Jedi Knight Kali Sarin and granddaughter of the Sith Lord, Darth Maul. She would _not_ suffer this injustice, this maltreatment without a fight. She climbed to her feet, straightened her cloak before she tossed back her head to stare at the crime lord, her manner as regal and dignified as a queens. Fett could hear the race of his body like a hard hum that drowned out the music, the voices. He activated the heads-up display in his helmet with a few blinks and brought up a half-sized holoimage of the girl. He focused in on her face, and felt a slow burning anger begin in the pit of his stomach as the truth of who she was, of _what_ she was, slammed into him.

Her hair was a rich shade of black, spilling curls over her shoulders and down to her waist. Her long and heavy-lidded eyes, narrow, somewhat aristocratic nose and tapered chin were all inherited traits from her mother. As was her small, delicate build. But her dusky skin, high, planed cheeks, gently sloping brow and generous mouth definitely belonged to the man who'd sired her-to him. _I'm her father_. He found himself thinking back to the last job he had worked with Kali, realized it had been almost sixteen years ago. Which was about how old Darsha was he saw, studying her holographic image once more. Why Kali had hidden his child from him, he did not know, could not even begin to fathom. And he fully intended to find out as soon as he discovered where the woman was hiding herself. But, he had a more pressing problem to handle at that moment. Standing in front of this lecherous and nefarious Hutt was _his _daughter. _His _flesh and blood. And that made her the single most important person to him in that throne room at that moment. The only thing in that throne room that mattered to him, in fact.

"Ho, ho," the crime lord said, stark appreciation in his deep gaze. "And what do we have here?" He questioned in Huttese.

"I'm not a what," Darsha said, speaking Huttese in return. "I'm a _who._"

She was like a queen, Fett thought. A warrior queen that was addressing her enemy. He wasn't sure how he felt about that image. That she'd clearly inherited her courage and pride and fearlessness from both her parents was abundantly clear. A part of him was proud to see her stand tall, to face Jabba's threat with cool disdain rather than fear. But if there was one thing that Fett knew the Hutt was not, was benevolent. He took great pleasure in tormenting others-whether that other be a slave, droid or in his employ. His daughter was in the very presence of evil, of that there was little doubt. And the spiteful Jabba, he thought as his belly did a queasy roll, would not hesitate to dump her down into the pit that was beneath his throne if she continued challenging him.

"Ho, ho, ho." There was a gleam to his bulging dark eyes that sent a cold chill down Fett's spine. He began weaving his way through the crowd. "I shall enjoy taming you, my feisty one. Fortuna," he said to his majordomo. "You have done well. I am well pleased with this gift that you have given me."

Bib Fortuna stood back and let his arms swing at his side. Darsha looked over her shoulder at the majordomo, sneering in disgust. Noticing her gaze upon him, Fortuna reached up and stroked his hand over one of his two protruding fat tentacular appendages, drew one across his chest and gave a suggestive look to Darsha that she interpreted meant he _could_ help get her out of this mess he'd dumped her in. But his _help _would come with a price. Her lips peeled back on a wordless snarl.

"You will never tame me, Jabba."

"We shall see."

Jabba reached into the tank he kept near him for one of the delicacies he had imported. Darsha turned her head away in disgust after he had popped the squirming crustacean into his grotesque mouth. She doubted he even chewed the damn thing before he swallowed.

"You," he squinted his huge dark eyes and looked down at the pretty Twil'lek girl chained to his side. "Are to be returned to the dancer's quarters, and given a new costume. You will perform a dance tonight that will either please me and spare your life or, you will fail and be put to death." He turned to Fortuna. "This one," he signaled Darsha with a wave of his hand. "Is to be fitted with a collar and attired in something more appropriate before being brought back to me."

_It is a pity that such beauty is going to be wasted_, Bib thought silently. But he signaled for two guards to come forward and take hold of the girl. Fett saw that while his daughters face had drained of what color it had previously had, those brilliantly colored eyes burned with virulent hatred and disgust.

"You can chain me to your side, Jabba," Darsha growled. "But I guarantee you that you will never own me. And I will," she slapped at the pig-like hands that grabbed for her. "I promise you, do everything I can to get away from you."

"Ho, ho, I look forward to your challenge." Jabba laughed from deep in his belly, and his menagerie of murderers and assorted scum all laughed with him. But he spoke in a low voice that Fett knew too well. "But I suggest that you do not test my patience very much, or for very long. You won't like the consequences."

Boba stepped forward, brandishing his blaster menacingly, but Jabba silenced him with a glare. Then he said to Fortuna, who stood close by, his voice curt. "Remove the girl from my sight and do not bring her back until she has been attired appropriately."

Fett took that brief interval of silence to speak. "The girl is with me."

Jabba squinted his eyes and looked narrowly at Fett. "What do you mean that this girl is with you?"

"The girl contracted me for a bounty," Fett replied calmly. Later, he would consider the irony of how it was his own child who'd contracted him for a bounty. "And is my only lead in finding my intended target."

There was a wicked gleam on the Hutt's bloated face. "The girl is worth much to you then," he said shrewdly.

Anger welled up inside him for Jabba's manipulative nature. "The credits that she owes me once I have completed my contract are worth much to me," he said simply. The less information that Jabba had, the better. "The girl I can do without."

"I will pay you what she owes you," Jabba said graciously. "And take her off your hands."

Fett should have known that the Hutt wasn't going to easily relinquish his new plaything. Still, if there was one that Fett counted on with this Hutt, it was that his greedy nature would prevent him from paying more than a few thousand credits for a slave-even one as lovely as Darsha.

"The girl owes me half a million credits." A collective gasp went up among the thieves and mercenaries surrounding them. Jabba's eyes doubled in size but to his credit, the Hutt didn't start babbling. "Pay me that sum and I will turn the girl over to you."

Darsha had been relieved when Fett had finally appeared from the crowd. But her hopes were dashed into pieces the moment he told the filthy Hutt that if he paid him what she owed-a fee she'd noticed he'd conveniently _padded_- that he'd turn her over to him. She rounded on him, her eyes spitting venom and retribution.

"You turn me over to him," she hissed. "And I swear that I will make you pay."

Fett saw that she did not lash out at him with any of those mystical Force abilities that her mother possessed. But he saw the desire to do so stamped upon her face. It did not surprise him that she was keenly aware that the revelation of her Force abilities would ensure her enslavement and refrained from using them for that very reason. He felt a tingle of pride deep in his belly for her display of wisdom, of intellect. But this was a game that they both could lose if they were not careful. He grabbed Darsha by her arm, yanking her close enough that he could hear when she took a breath.

"Quiet," he warned softly. "Or we will both be sentenced to die in the Great Pit of Carkoon."

"You deserve to be sentenced to die in the Sarlacc, you nerf herder."

Darsha yanked her arm from his grasp and accidentally jostled the most valuable thing she had from its hiding place within a small pouch stitched in the sleeve of her cloak. The throne room fell silent as the flawless dirconia flew into the air and came tumbling, almost as if it fell in slow motion, back towards the ground. Fett caught the stone before it landed and stared at it, realizing it was one of the absolute most purest pink diamonds that he had ever seen in his life. Jabba saw the diamond and licked his thin lips with his snake-like tongue.

"Ohhhh..." he murmured.

The dirconia was a rare gem that few had ever seen, much less actually possessed. Jabba liked to think of himself as a _collector_. He paid good money to acquire only the best and the most rarest items-be it a drug shipment, dancing girl or new piece of weapon technology. To possess such a jewel would raise his status level considerably among his fellow Hutts.

He looked at Fett, demanded. "How much do you want for the gem?"

Fett was silent for one long moment. He knew that he now held the trump card that would get Darsha away from the Hutt's clutches. "The girl for the dirconia."

Darsha felt her world crashing down around her. The price of her freedom was the same item she had intended to use to pay Fett's fee. It wasn't fair, she thought, shutting her eyes. It just wasn't fair.

"Done. Fortuna, bring me the jewel." And with that, the Hutt dismissed them.

Fett dropped the jewel in the majordomo's hand before he took Darsha by the arm and led her from the throne room. She left with him, knew that she had no other choice, he'd simply enforce her compliance. But once they were in the secure hangar in which he'd docked his ship, the _Slave I, _she pulled her arm free and rounded on him.

"Do you have any idea about what you have done?"

Fett stopped in his tracks, stood still, and stared at his daughter long enough that most individuals would have begun to squirm in discomfort. But _she_ didn't. Behind his mask, a rare smile curved his lips. That was her mother through and through.

"I have secured your freedom," he said simply. "That is what I have done."

"By using the same jewel that I intended to sell in order to secure the credits necessary to pay the remainder of your fee," she said with just a trace of bitterness in her voice.

Fett stepped towards her, saw her stiffen. But her face when she looked at him was absolutely calm. "There is no fee remaining on our contract."

Throughly confused now, Darsha frowned, scanning that black visor for some clue as to the thoughts going on behind that mask. Fett knew she saw nothing and that it frustrated her, but she did not let it show.

"Excuse me?"

"The contract is marked as paid in full," he turned and continued walking, and Darsha had to hurry to catch up with him.

"Why are you marking our contract as being paid in full?" She demanded. "Have you changed your mind about taking the bounty?"

He couldn't refuse now, she thought desperately. He was the only one who could help her.

Fett walked along without replying for a number of minutes. Finally he said; "You have something else that I want in return for D'Slank."

He did not tell her that he intended to hunt D'Slank either which way. Not only was the Empire offering a high bounty for him, but he'd enslaved his daughter. He was going to ensure D'Slank met his own brand of justice for that fact alone.

"What could I have that you want?"

Fett's harsh voice echoed in the silent hangar.

"You know where your mother is." He paused. Saw surprise race across her eyes before every ounce of emotion was wiped clean. "Do not think to lie to me," he warned in a cold voice. "You are Kali's daughter."

_And mine_, he added silently.

Darsha didn't trust him and it showed. "I am her daughter, yes." She nodded. "But, I do not see where that has any significant meaning for why you wish to know where she is."

A quick smile touched Fett's features. "She owes me an explanation," he said.

"About what?" Darsha asked, clearly bewildered.

Fett reached up and gently gripped his daughter's chin between his index and thumb.

"About why she chose to keep my daughter from me."


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Own nothing but for my story concept and theme and my OFC's...

* * *

Boba Fett had become a man at the age of ten standard years. What had been left of his childhood innocence had been ripped away in the instant that a purple light sword had severed his father's head from his body, ending Jango's life and leaving young Boba an orphan. There, in that arena being torn apart by blaster fire, was where Boba had realized that the galaxy was cold and cruel and hard. In the days following Jango's death, he had discovered that he could trust no one, at any time, or in any situation but for himself. Not if he wanted to live at least. Not that he feared death.

"Everyone dies, Boba. Even the greatest of men cannot evade death forever," Jango had told him once. "Even you will eventually fall to the hand of death." And because Jango said it, Boba accepted it as being true.

Death was the final, lasting justice. It was the means to an end-whether that end was intended for a life lived righteously, or one that had been spent in sin. There was no greater good than justice in Boba Fett's mind, but that was only if the law served justice and made it a good law. His father had told him once-and Boba knew that he was right because Jango Fett was never wrong-that law existed not for the just, but for the unjust and that the reason for that was because the just carried the law in their hearts and did not need to call it from afar.

It was that sense of law and justice that fueled Fett in his quest to hunt down the Imperial traitor, Javar D'Slank. He told himself that it was not personal as he stared out _Slave I's _viewscreen at the expanse of space blanketing the ship in its star-studded arms. He told himself that it was the quarter million credits that Lord Vader was willing to pay for the return of the traitor that drove him. But it was personal and Fett knew it. It was personal because Javar D'Slank had enslaved _his _child. A child that he had known nothing about until a few hours before. A child he might never have known about had she not boldly entered the Palace of Jabba the Hutt with the intention of forging a contract with him for the man he now hunted. That she could have been discovered, that she could have become enslaved to the vile Hutt was an abundantly clear fact. But Darsha had not allowed her fear to sway her from her course.

He approved of that. There were women in this galaxy-as well as men-who reckoned they were tough and fearless but seemed to think that it came from wielding a fancy weapon and talking with a smart mouth. The ones who were truly fearless and tough, Fett thought, were the ones who faced their fears and completed their chosen objective. Darsha Ra'Shai had proven she was both. Fett did not like much of anybody, that was a well known fact, but he found himself not disliking _her,_ although he knew very little about her. Contemplating his eldest daughter had him thinking about his other daughter- Ailyn. She'd be thirteen now he realized with a slight pang he recognized as regret. And he knew no more about her than he did Darsha. The reasons for why he knew so little about his daughters were as uniquely different as each girl was. Where Kali had kept her pregnancy a secret from him and feigned her death for reasons unbeknownst to him, he had been exiled from Concord Dawn and his wife, Sintas and their infant daughter.

Checking the internal cam circuit that gave him a view from each of _Slave I's_ compartments, he saw that Darsha was sitting cross-legged in the middle of one of the holding cells, eyes closed, hands in her lap. Knowing she possessed Force abilities caused his gut to clench. He abhorred the Jedi with every fiber of his being, felt no guilt whatsoever about hunting down those believed to be part of the old Jedi guard and bringing them before Vader. But a voice inside his head reminded him that there was one Jedi that he had not been able to hate, that he had not only fallen in love with, but fathered this girl with as well.

_Why did you not tell me that you were pregnant with my child, Kali?_

Did Darsha even know that he was her father? No, he suspected that by her reaction in Jabba's hangar that she had been as unaware of him as he was of her. He found himself wondering about her childhood. Had she played with the same simple toys that he'd played with as a boy? Had her childhood home been an austere one or a warm and vibrant one? What had been her favorite bedtime story as a child? He had an endless amount of questions, the kind that a father who saw his daughter regularly never would feel the need to ask.

_I wasn't there for her any more than I was there for Ailyn. I wasn't there to see her grow up. I wasn't there to teach her the things that only a father can teach_.

He was there for his daughter _now_, he realized. He checked the ship's autopilot, made sure that the coordinates had been inputed correctly before he got up and left the cockpit. Darsha didn't open her eyes when Fett dropped down into the cargo hold. She was finding it much easier to reach out into the Force then she'd anticipated. Even with the sensory distraction of her _father _being less than ten meters away from her, she found she could easily focus on the ebb and flow of the Force around and within her.

_Why did you not tell me that this...bounty hunter is my father?_

Darsha could reach out and not only touch her mother here within the Force, but she could speak with her as well, their Force-bond strengthened by their shared blood. She pictured her mother as she'd last seen-her face serene and composed as she hung in a state of suspended animation within the stasis tube that D'Slank had placed her in six months before-and let her presence expand and merge gently with hers. She felt the warmth spread from deep within her, spreading upwards from her belly and into her chest: her mother had felt her, and returned the touch.

_I am sorry for not telling you that he is your father. But I worried that given the strong feelings you have about your father that knowing who he was would either prevent you from approaching him or cause you to confront him. Neither of which would have served our purpose, my daughter_.

_How do you know that he will not simply turn me over to Vader and his Inquisitors? Or take me to the Emperor himself? He is a bounty hunter-loyal to nobody but himself._

_Boba will never hand you over to Vader. He would die before allowing any harm to come to you. You must trust me on this_.

_I trust you, my mother. But I do not know if I can trust this man_.

Darsha sensed another presence in the Force then- a dark and yet familiar presence that both soothed and comforted her. She had felt this dark presence before-when she had been a very little girl still. Then she had run to Obi-Wan for comfort and protection, for the safety and security she'd always found when in his presence. She still did not know who this other presence was, or why she could feel them as keenly as she did. She let the connection fade before it became a beacon for...whomever this other presence was. Her mother would understand why she had ended the connection, she knew well that Force users had to be discreet in the Force these days. She drew herself back to the here and now. And opened her eyes to stare into the helmeted visage silently watching her. She wasn't sure how to feel towards this man, much less about what to think of this unusual situation in which she'd found herself.

"She says I can trust you," she heard the bitterness and anger in her voice and even while it shamed her, she did not apologize for it. "I want to know if she is right."

It was not phrased as a question but Fett knew she was demanding an answer all the same. But the answer was not a simple one. The only person Fett had ever completely trusted was his father. He was not what people considered to be a team player. Oh, he could handle command whenever he needed to, but he preferred working alone, and he preferred being alone for that matter. His marriage was a prime example of his inability to relinquish that lone barve preference he'd inherited from his father. Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, Fett realized that he was now in the position Jango had been with him: the mentor as well as Darsha's parent. He either could do what he normally did, which was keep his distance and utilize their relationship to best serve his needs at that moment-or he could embrace this opportunity and form a bond with at least one of his children.

_You left Sintas and your two-year-old baby and have never looked back. Why do you think it will be any different with Darsha?_

"She would not have sent you to find me if she believed that you could not trust me," he said in an absent tone.

_Dad did not abandon you. He was stolen. So, what kind of a man are you if you abandon her? Especially when she needs your protection and guidance the most_?

Fett thought about Jango every day, sometimes missing him so much that he would have traded all of his possessions, as meager as they were, for just a few minutes more with him-a few minutes in which to touch him and tell him he loved them, to show him that he'd become the kind of man that Jango would have raised him to be. The pain of his fathers death was as raw as it had been on the day he'd seen him killed, perhaps more so, because the initial shock had long since worn off and been replaced by cold, nearly overwhelming hatred.

_You see your father staring back at you whenever you look in the mirror. Imagine how she must have felt to look in the mirror and not known what she was looking at._

"You have turned Jedi over to the Empire in the past," she was pointing out. "How do I know that you are not planning to do the same to me? To my mother?"

_Does she honestly think I would hand either her or Kali over to Vader_?

"You are safe with me."

"Why should I believe that? Or believe you?" There was a vague note of desperation in her voice, on her face. She was struggling as much as he was to come to terms with their newfound familial connection. "You're nothing but a stranger to me."

"As you are to me," he returned simply. "But you are my child."

He hesitated for only a moment before he reached up to remove his helmet. Few knew what he looked like beneath the helmet. They assumed-somewhat correctly, he had to admit-that he looked like any of the clones still remaining from the Clone Wars. For the first time he looked upon his daughter with his own eyes.

"For that, I will allow no harm to come to you," he said quietly. "Or to your mother for that matter."

Darsha studied her father silently. His hair was as dark as hers, his face-unlined by having been protected from the sun by his helmet-slightly more swarthy and his eyes a rich shade of brown. She saw some of her own features in his and finally understood, as well as accepted that he was, indeed, her father.

"So...it is true then."

He nodded. "Yes."

She rolled to her feet and approached him slowly, cautiously, knowing that despite his words to the contrary that he was still the most dangerous man she had ever faced.

"Am I to call you father now?"

It stunned him to realize just how much he wanted to hear her call him _father_. He prided himself on being as practical and simple a man as his father. But the desire to be called father was a strong one. He might not know how to be part of a family, but that did not prevent him from desiring to be part of one.

"If you wish," he said, his voice a bit hoarse.

She nodded. "I will consider it then."

"I am not your enemy."

"Maybe," she lifted her shoulders into a shrug. "But that depends upon one thing."

"Which is?"

"Can I trust you?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"You are not what I expected..." she paused; sighed and looked away. "I don't know what I expected honestly. She never talked about you. It made her sad whenever I asked her about who my father was. So I stopped asking after a time."

_So she did ask about her dad._

"She owes me an explanation."

"For why she did not tell you about me?"

He nodded. "And for why she feigned her death."

"She feigned her death to stop the ones after her from killing you."

Darsha was actually angry. Fett could see the color in her cheeks. Her voice had turned as cold and harsh as his was normally. "The Emperor and his new puppet were hunting Jedi in those days. She felt that she had placed you in jeopardy and chose to give you up in order to see you safe."

"And kept you from me."

"I would say my mother did the responsible thing considering how sticking around doesn't seem to suit you very well."

_She knows a lot about me... but did not know I was her father. Why is that, I wonder?_

He suspected that the answer to that question was Kali.

"I do not need a lecture on responsibility from you, Darsha."

She looked like she might have said more but wisely decided to keep her mouth shut. Fett wasn't sure what else to say. He was used to fear, awe, even horror. He had not seen such defiance in his adult life-not for very long anyway. Darsha clearly had strong feelings about this situation-and about _him_.

"I was fifteen," he said. "Your mother was close to seventeen. The galaxy was a dangerous place and we had to survive in it. But had I known that your mother was pregnant with you, or discovered your existence at any point, I would have tried to be there. I would have done my best to be a father to you and to protect the both of you from those who would harm you."

"Okay."

Fett rarely got angry. To be angry, you had to care. And while he knew that he cared _about _her; she was his child after all, he was not sure that he cared _for _her. But she had struck a nerve.

"Maybe I would have grown up a nicer guy if a Jedi wielding a purple lightsaber had not killed my father right in front of me."

"You despise me for being born with Force abilities, don't you?"

"It does not matter whether you have those abilities or not."

"It does matter," Darsha looked at him with huge, pained eyes that in that moment were much older than her scant sixteen years. "If it didn't, you would not be wishing I did not have them."

He had forgotten that Kali had been capable of seeing his thoughts. It had been a major point of contention between them when they'd been together. One that he foresaw being a problem between him and his daughter if he did not establish some specific ground rules then and there.

"You are not to read my thoughts," he said sternly. "It is rude and evasive."

She was instantly contrite, said; "Sorry, father." But then she muttered in a dark tone, "but I _am_ right. You hate that I possess Force abilities."

Fett wasn't sure what to say; how to answer. He'd already said more to her than he'd said to anyone in the last month. Again he found himself wondering what his father would do. _He'd be honest with you is what he'd be. _Then that is what he would be, too.

"I do not hate that you have these so-called Force abilities," he said. "I worry because you have them. These are dangerous times and force users still hunted by the Empire."

"Yes," she replied somberly. She thought of her mother, waiting to be awoken. "I know."

Fett was on the verge of asking her just how she had become enslaved by D'Slank when something struck the hull on the port side of the ship. The first hit was a shock to the both of them. Fett had not anticipated that there would be an attack upon them as they were traveling to Nar Shaddaa. But he knew _Slave I _had come under attack when the ship lurched to the side and sent Darsha tumbling into him.

"What was that?" Darsha asked as her father steadied her.

"We're under attack."

Fett pulled his helmet back on and immediately headed back to the cockpit when another blast scored a direct hit and shot out sparks and pieces of metal in every direction. Paternal instinct kicked in and had him shielding Darsha to avoid her being hurt. That second blast was close enough to have been a fatal one, he realized. The impact of a third laser-cannon bolt struck the ship's frame and sent them sprawling across the bare durasteel floor of the hold. They were slammed against the hull opposite the entrance of the cockpit, the wind knocked out of them. Past the explosion that shuddered through _Slave I's _hull into the core beams that ran from the forward sensor antennae to the shielded engine compartments they could hear the ripping sound of the bulkhead panels as they ripped free from another. The sound of the laser cannon bolt faded and the wails and shrieks of the ships alarm systems became audible to both of her passenger's. Fett quickly took control of the situation.

"Mute alarms." He said into the command microphone that was inside his helmet. "Switch to optical status report."

A row of lights appeared at the limit of his vision as the shrieks and wails stopped. He knew that each glowing vertical dot represented a different rank of his ship's systems. Right now those systems were all flashing a fast paced red that matched the beating of his heart.

"How bad is the damage?"

Darsha asked him in a small, tight voice. He looked at where she sat against one of the holding cells, a trickle of blood running from a small cut on her forehead and her eyes wide, face pale. He knew the situation could only be more critical if any of those flashing dots had turned from red to black, indicating that _Slave I's _systems had failed.

"Bad enough." He replied finally.

He was most concerned with a dot that told him if _Slave I's_ structure-envelope integrity was holding. The structure-envelope was measured in atmospheric-maintenance capability which meant if that dot went out then the ship was breaking into fragments, the hull's durasteel sheath delaminating away from the broken internal frame and scattering the both of them into empty space as if they were nothing. Fett realized that another hit from that laser cannon would have a significant and almost catastrophic effect. _Slave I _would not be able to take another direct hit and survive. A quick study showed that the hyperdrive had been lost in one of the bolts and there was no way to make a jump into hyperspace even if it was still operational. It left him with only a few options. Quickly, he swung into the cockpit and moved to the controls, punching in a code that would allow the ship's onboard computer to take over the navigational procedures.

"Randomize all maneuvers," he instructed. "Calculate and implement non-predictive evasion pattern."

He had not removed his hand from the controls when the docking correction rockets burned on hard to twist the ship out of its previous slow course. The movement slammed Fett against Darsha-who he had not known had followed him-and they both hit the side of the cockpit. Fett's neck would have been sliced wide open through an opening between the thick gray material of his space suit and his armor if he would have fallen on a jagged piece of metal that had come loose in the flooring of the cockpit after the last blast knocked it loose.

A warning sound became more audible as the stressed frame of _Slave I _groaned from the transmitted force of the rockets. He did not need to check his electric sensors to know what had happened. He could feel the chill of the falling temperature through his battle armor and heard the sibilant hiss of the dwindling atmospheric pressure. Darsha was watching him with eyes that were more than a little concerned but cautiously trusting. That she placed even a small amount of trust in him gave him hope. The reserve oxygen tanks' emitters kicked in finally and tried to futilely overcome the loss of pressure to the ships main cabin areas. The evasive maneuvers initiated by the onboard computer had wrenched part of the already loose hull off. Fett realized that _Slave I _might be able to stand a chance of dodging a few more laser bolts, but that it would only take one to end their existence. The ship had its own array of long-range weaponry that Fett could call upon to shoot at the attacker, but using such a move could, in essence, speed up their deaths.

"Is the comlink still operational?" she asked.

Fett looked at her as if she had lost her mind. They faced a desperate situation at the moment and she was thinking about the comlink? Darsha sensed what he was thinking and slid around the metal beam that had nearly decapitated her father and gripped the back of the pilot's chair he himself held onto.

"The one who is attacking you is after me, not you." She didn't see the point or need to explain just how it was that she knew who attacked them. It was clear how she knew, a fact which both bemused and annoyed Fett. "Tell him that you will trade me to him if he will let you go."

"Absolutely not," he gritted. That she'd dared to even suggest that he trade _her_ in order to save himself had him bristling. "And if you ever again suggest that I trade you to an enemy I will dump you out of the air lock."

"It is the..." her words were cut off as another laser bolt scored a direct hit upon the curved center of the hull.

The unexpected force of the bolt sent Darsha and Fett backwards. Fett smacked his head against the metal flooring but was spared serious injury by the protective layers of his helmet. A torrent of hot sparks, blinding miniatures of the bolt that had just crippled his ship rained over his back, shoulders and helmet. Getting to his knees, Fett didn't see that the metal piece that had nearly decapitated him earlier had come loose from the wall. It pierced him beneath the armor at his shoulder, the surprising bite of pain eliciting a soft scream. It was the kind of incoherent animal sound that a being made when pain overwhelms them. Darsha's gasp was close, to his right, about a meter away. He sipped a strangled breath and clamped his teeth against the pain.

"Darsha..." _Come closer_. He thought the words but could not say them. His vision blurred for a moment, went gray around the edges.

"No..." Darsha moaned as she moved to brace her father against her when he tumbled forward. "No, oh no."

She laid him down gently on the floor, cradling his head in her lap. She knew he was seriously wounded, could see by the amount of blood soaking through into her skirt that he required immediate medical attention. Options were few she realized. They were stranded here in space, with no allies to suddenly come to their aide, at the mercy of a man who wanted to hand her over to Darth Vader as a means of vengeance upon her mother. So she did the only thing she could think to do...

...she reached out into the Force for guidance.


End file.
